Late Nights and Dances
by IAmKayDubs
Summary: It's the fourth of July, once again, and England takes his usual stance of laying down and remembering everything. But this year is different, for a visitor shows up who should bring bad memories, but manages to make new good memories.


It's that time of year again. The time in which the bitter memories flow freely, a river carrying them up and down throughout his mind.

England stays in that night, not wanting to deal with anything that could remind him of the loss.

He is certain that America is in some backyard or at some park, a barbecue lit and sparklers blazing brightly in the night.

It's the Fourth of July.

England knows very well that he should be happy for America, considering it's the birthday of both him and his county, but he can't shake the feelings if dreadful loss that shrouds him. He knows America is happy on a night like this, but he can not rid the thoughts of how much he had given up in order to give America that happiness.

He sighs as he stretches his limbs out, while laying on the couch. Some tv show is playing, but he really can't bring himself to pay attention to it.

He shuts his eyes and thinks back a few hundred years. Back when America was little. Back when he was a gentle and innocent child, not yet known to most of the world.

He thinks of finding him in that field, bright blue eyes staring up at him with a gentle yet excited expression. He took over the role of caretaker for that little boy, promising to be the best he could be at raising him.

He remembers when America got a little older, when he was a young child. Still little, but growing up quicker than England had hoped. England told the boy he would be leaving, and fear struck those blue eyes. He had cried out, demanding that England stay with him, for he didn't want to be alone.

But England had left, and he had returned to find America had grown much too quickly. He had become a teenager, his blue eyes no longer innocent, but instead steady and almost a bit cold. It was clear that America resented England in some ways, judging by the glares he would sometimes receive.

And those glares hurt. They made England feel so abandoned and unneeded. Sometimes he felt like crying. They just hurt that much. He had raised the little boy from the field, and now he might be hated by him. It was all too much.

And eventually, America had declared war. They met on the battlefield, and it pained England to see the little boy with the bright eyes standing before him in the rain, a gun poised and ready to shoot.

Of course, they both survived, once England regretfully gave America the freedom he so desperately craved. He didn't think it was worth hurting America anymore. America was happy when he had freedom, so England made it so. England had always wanted that. When he found that boy, he just wanted to raise him to be happy... And even if it hurt him greatly, happiness was what America got.

England had been smiling at the sweet memories of a little America, but a grimace forms when he remembers the revolution.

He began to drift off, as he continued to think of all the bittersweet memories that accompanied America.

Eventually, he was in a deep sleep.

Around one in the morning, however, we is woken up by a swift poke in the side.

He jolts up, scrambling on the couch until he gains his balance.

He looks around, looking for the source of the person who woke him. He looks up to see none other than America.

He sits completely upright on the couch and raises his eyebrows curiously. "America...? What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at some barbecue or something?"

America shakes his head softly. "I skipped out on the major festivities this year."

"Why is that? Are you sick or something?"

"No, I just..." America struggles to find the right words. "I know this time of year can be difficult for you, and I couldn't just party all night when I knew a friend was upset. It's a hero's job to keep people happy, right?"

England is beyond surprised. America usually doesn't come anywhere near him during this time, so he hadn't expected him to even contact him, let alone show up.

"You took a seven hour plane ride just to be here?"

"Yeah, dude! I didn't want you to be alone all night!"

England gives a soft smile. "I see... Thank you, then..."

England scoots over on the couch and offers a place for America to sit, America takes it gladly, taking his time to stretch out in the couch, his elbow resting on the back of the couch, his body tilted towards England. He coughs slightly, before speaking up again.

"So uh... I don't think I've ever really taken a chance to say sorry... I know it's my fault you get upset every year..." America pauses. "I mean, I'm glad I'm free... But I never wanted to hurt you when I got that freedom."

England nods softly. "I know, America. I understand. I wasn't there for a while, and then I was there too much. I messed up and lost you on my own, that's my fault."

The two sit in uncomfortable silence for while after that, unsure of what they can possibly say to the other.

As always, however, America is the one to speak up, unable to take sitting still.

"Come on, dude, let's do something?"

"Like what? It's past one in the morning."

"Perfect! Night time is the best time to go out and have fun!"

"I don't know, America. It's quite late..."

"I know, but we hardly ever get to really hang out."

England considers this.

"Yeah, you're right. Just... No heavy drinking. My hangover the last time we got drinks was horrendous."

"Ahh, fine."

America jumped up from the couch, grabbing on to England's hand and tugging him up. "Let's go!"

The two head out to the streets of London, where quite a few people are out and about, invigorated by the night.

America entrusts England to lead him around the streets, for he hardly ever comes to England's house, and doesn't know his way around the city.

They do, in fact, stop at a pub for drinks at one point, but England manages to cut himself off after only one. (Much to the shock of boy men.)

The two exit the pub, only to walk around the city some more, simply looking in some shop windows (most of them closed) and making small talk. Eventually, they decide they need to take a rest from the walking, so they head for a bench. They sit down side by side, England subconsciously sitting closer to America than usual.

The two stare at the sky for a while, while England points out a few constellations that he knows.

But then they hear popping. A crackling sound, followed by a burst of color.

England lowers his head a bit. "I forgot, they're having a fair over in a town near by..."

America's eyes go downcast. He knows the mood is dampened by the appearance of fireworks, as they lead to a stream of bad memories. America's presence by itself probably doesn't help either.

So America takes a chance. He slowly puts his arms around England and pulls him into a hug. To his surprise, he hears no objections, no snaps of insults like "get off of me you git!"

Instead, England just stays where he is in the embrace, his head loosely falling on to America's shoulder. America is surprised, but he doesn't dare move, this is a rare opportunity.

America, while glad England is allowing him to hug him, feels his mood sinking, for he knows it is his fault that he even feels like he does at all.

"I'm sorry... I hate hurting you like this." America murmurs, trying to be soft and gentle, even though he isn't used to being so.

"Don't worry about me. I'll be just fine, America."

"You don't have to lie about it. I mean, I know you better than anyone, right?"

"Ahh, I suppose that is true." England gives a tiny smile. He sits in silence a while longer, mulling over his thoughts, before pulling out of Americas embrace and standing up.

America fears the worst, he imagines England will storm off, or get angry and shout at him, but he does none of this.

He holds out his hand and gives a smile. "Come on, let's dance."

"Dance?"

"Yeah. Remember when you were a kid, I would try and teach you to dance? You'd stand on the toes of my feet."

America smiles. "Yeah." He takes the offered hand and is pulled up. "I wasn't good at it then, and in still not great." America chuckles softly.

"No matter, I'll lead. Just follow along, okay?"

America nods and stares at his feet while he tries to match up with the steps England takes. One step, two step, three step four step.

He hears that England is humming a song, soft and sweet. Eventually America looks up, his feet working on their own. "Okay, I think I'm getting the hang of this."

England nods with a gentle grin, continuing to lead the graceful dance. He widens the area in which they dance, twirling around on coordinated toes. He eventually dips America, causing him to yelp slightly. When he comes up, he is grinning widely. England slows, bringing his hand to rest on America's hip in order to balance him.

"Dang." America sighs. "Impressive dancing there."

"I've had practice." England nods gently.

Much to America's surprise, England pulls himself closer towards him. England rests his forehead on America's shoulder and sways back and forth slowly.

America doesn't question it, because England is clearly feeling better, and he doesn't want to wreck it.

In all honestly, England had forgotten all about the bad memories.

* * *

A/N: Hello everyone! I know fics have been written about England on the fourth of July, but I wanted to do a slightly different one.

I really don't have anything to say about this, I just wrote most of this while in the car yesterday (4 hour car ride, but worth it because it was for a Mayday Parade concert!)

Thanks for reading, rate and review if you enjoy! :)

-KayDubs


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